Mirror world fantasy

The battlefield was quiet.

Too quiet.

Where moments ago there had been storms of chains and the booming steps of the Keeper, now there was only dust and fragments of shattered vows drifting like snow. Ren stood at the center of it all, chest heaving, his knuckles white around the vow-chain that pulsed faintly in his grip.

Selene knelt beside him, her silver hair tangled, her hand still pressed against his arm as if afraid that if she let go, he would fade into the same dust as the Keeper.

"Ren," she whispered, her voice low, fragile. "You did it… you broke him."

Ren shook his head slowly, his eyes fixed on the spot where the Keeper had fallen. "No. I didn't break him. I broke his moon. There's a difference."

Selene's brow furrowed. "Then where is he?"

Ren's jaw tightened. He didn't answer—because he knew. That lingering pulse, that final whisper burned into his chest like an ember. The Keeper hadn't died. He had only left something behind.

The shard.

Ren's eyes narrowed, his voice grim. "He's still here. Watching."

At that moment, the ground beneath them quivered. Not violently, not like before—but subtly, like a heartbeat under stone. The Pane itself seemed to listen. And from that silence came the faintest sound—scratching. A hiss that wasn't wind, but language.

"Scars remember. Scars repeat."

Selene stiffened. "Did you hear that?"

Ren nodded. "Yeah."

He rose slowly, pulling her with him, the vow-chain still coiled around his hand like a serpent reluctant to rest. The fragments of the Keeper's black moon glittered faintly in the air, refusing to vanish completely. They drifted toward the horizon as though carried by an unseen will, forming a faint trail of light.

Selene's grip on his arm tightened. "He's leaving pieces of himself behind."

Ren's smirk was humorless. "Like breadcrumbs… or traps."

The girl's eyes, wide and reflective like shards of silver, glimmered with unease. "Then we can't stay here. If he's scattered himself, others will find him. Other wardens, other… watchers."

Ren's gaze followed the trail of light into the distance, where the Pane's fractured sky shimmered with that endless veil of crescent-shaped eyes. Some blinked. Others didn't.

For the first time since the fight, Ren felt it—pressure. Not the crushing authority of the Keeper, but something else. Something older. Like the Pane itself was leaning closer.

Selene whispered again, this time almost trembling. "…Ren. They're watching us differently now."

He turned to her. "Differently?"

Her silver hair caught the faint glow of the dissolving fragments. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she answered. "…Before, they were watching me. But now—they're watching you."

The vow-chain coiled tighter around his arm, pulsing, as if answering her words.

Ren exhaled, slow and steady. He could feel it. The scar of the Keeper's broken vow wasn't just floating in the air—it was etched into him. A brand. A mark.

The Pane wasn't ignoring him anymore.

It had noticed.

And somewhere, in that suffocating silence, another voice drifted—not Selene's, not the Keeper's, not even his own reflection's.

"…Ren. You've bled too far. The Pane remembers you now."

It was faint, but chillingly familiar. A girl's whisper.

He turned sharply. Selene frowned. "What is it?"

Ren's lips pressed together. "…Her. Again."

The silver-haired girl. The echo who shouldn't exist.

Selene's face paled. "The one in the waking world…"

Ren didn't answer. His heart was pounding too loud. Because the whisper hadn't come from the horizon.

It had come from behind a shard—floating right above his reflection in the ground.

And when he looked down—

His reflection didn't move with him.

Ren's breath slowed.

Not because he was calm.

Because his reflection wasn't moving.

Selene's hand tightened against his sleeve, sensing the wrongness before he even spoke. "Ren…" she whispered, her voice tight, "why isn't it following you?"

He didn't answer. He crouched instead, lowering his gaze to the glass-like ground beneath them. His reflection looked back—same face, same Thorn-shadow coiled in its ribs.

But when Ren tilted his head—his reflection smiled.

Selene's gasp cut the silence.

It didn't echo him.

It mocked him.

The reflection pressed its palm flat against the mirrored surface. The Pane's light pooled there, twisting like liquid silver, warping his mirrored skin. Its mouth opened—but instead of words, the ground itself trembled.

A thousand voices, whispering in unison:

"You broke the law. You bled the vow. The scar remembers. The scar repeats."

Ren growled low in his throat, Thornblade humming faintly in his grip. "Not this game again."

But Selene shook her head, stepping closer, her silver eyes widening with something closer to dread than confusion. "No… Ren. This isn't just a reflection. It's a scar copy. The Pane is stitching you into itself."

Her words fell sharp.

Ren's reflection pressed harder against the ground—then began to rise.

The mirrored surface rippled like water, but when the figure pulled itself free, it wasn't liquid—it was bone and light fused together. His duplicate climbed upward, its grin stretching too wide, its eyes hollow and endless like black mirrors.

It stood.

It breathed.

But it wasn't him.

Ren raised his blade. "So the Pane's trying to replace me now."

The reflection tilted its head, and this time, it spoke with his own voice—yet wrong. Stretched. Deeper.

"No. Not replace. Preserve."

Selene whispered hoarsely, her hands trembling against her chest. "That's what the Keeper warned. The Pane doesn't destroy anomalies—it cages them. It copies them into scars, so the law can keep them forever."

Ren smirked grimly. "Guess I'll have to break the cage then."

The copy's grin faltered into something almost human. Almost pained.

"You already did," it said. "That's why I exist."

Before Ren could answer, the scar-copy lunged—faster than his mirror double ever had. Its Thornblade was identical, its weight perfect, its fury sharpened by something colder than intent.

When Ren blocked, sparks of mirror-light scattered, cutting the air like shrapnel. Selene shielded her face, her voice breaking. "Ren! If it's built from your scar, it knows your every move—"

"Then I'll make moves I haven't made yet," Ren growled, forcing the copy back with a sharp twist of his blade.

The scar-copy's hollow eyes narrowed. "You can't outrun your own wound."

The ground pulsed beneath them—eyes in the sky blinking faster, wider. Watching. Recording.

And Selene suddenly froze, staring at the scar-copy's ribs. Her voice trembled. "Ren… look."

He risked a glance.

The Thorn inside its chest wasn't pulsing.

It was screaming.

Black veins writhed across its body like living cracks, spreading faster every time Ren struck. The Pane wasn't just copying him.

It was feeding on the Thorn.

Selene grabbed his wrist, desperate. "If you kill it, you'll feed the Pane more! It'll learn you through it—every weakness, every shard of memory. You'll be caged before you realize it!"

Ren's teeth clenched, eyes narrowing on the copy as it grinned again, blade raised for another strike.

So he had a choice.

Fight and risk becoming the Pane's prisoner…

Or let his reflection move unchecked, carving the scar deeper into the world.

The vow-chain tightened around his arm, pulsing like a heartbeat not his own—urging him. Demanding.

Selene whispered, terrified:

"Ren… whatever you do—don't let it finish breathing."

The scar-copy lunged again—this time with a whisper that sounded like his own voice.

"I am you. The you that stays."

The scar-copy's blade pressed against Ren's throat.

Every twitch of its mirrored Thornblade sang like steel over glass, humming with the Pane's power. The ground beneath their feet rippled again, whispers clawing at Ren's mind.

"Stay. Preserve. Remember."

Ren shoved back, forcing the copy a step away, his own blade shaking from the sheer resistance.

Selene's voice cracked, "Ren! Don't fight it head-on—it's your scar! The more you resist, the more the Pane learns you!"

But Ren only smirked, dark eyes glinting. "Then I'll show it something it can't learn."

The scar-copy lunged again, its hollow eyes glowing. It wasn't reckless—it was perfect. Every slash met Ren's guard as though it had already read his body, his intent, his next breath.

Selene's throat tightened as she watched. "It knows your choices before you make them…"

Ren's feet slid against the mirrored ground, his reflection smearing in distorted waves. Sparks rained where steel bit steel. And still—his copy's Thorn pulsed like a living wound.

But Ren wasn't backing down.

He caught the blade lock, forcing the mirrored double to pause. His grin widened, blood dripping from his lip.

"Thing is…" he hissed, voice low, "…you're my scar, not my soul."

The scar-copy's grin faltered. Just for a fraction.

And in that fraction, Ren twisted. Not his usual rhythm, not his instinctual strike—something wild, something unpatterned. He drove his knee into the copy's ribs, shattering bone that wasn't bone but mirror-echo.

It reeled back, and the Pane's whispers cracked into shrieks.

Selene clutched her chest. Her silver eyes flared as she realized. "Ren—you're not fighting it with skill. You're fighting it with chaos."

Ren spat blood, tightening his grip. "Try caging something that refuses to make sense."

The copy staggered—but then its chest tore open.

The Thorn inside wasn't silent anymore.

It screamed—raw, endless, as though the vow itself had been ripped apart. Black veins burst across the sky, through the Pane, across the mirrored earth.

Selene screamed, shielding her ears. The sound wasn't sound—it was memory.

Ren froze.

Because the Thorn wasn't screaming at him.

It was screaming as him.

The scar-copy fell to its knees, clutching its chest, its grin broken into anguish. Its voice—Ren's voice—howled.

"Don't break me again—don't make me disappear—"

Ren's grip faltered, blade shaking. Selene grabbed his arm, desperate. "Ren—it's not just a copy. It's the part of you that the Pane stole. Your scar—it's alive."

The Pane's eyes blinked faster above them, as if hungering for the moment. The mirrored ground cracked beneath the weight of the scream.

Ren's chest burned—the Thorn inside him pulsing violently, resonating with its twin in the scar-copy. Their rhythms collided, heartbeats out of sync, each threatening to split him open.

Selene clutched him tighter, tears welling. "If you destroy it—you destroy yourself. If you let it live—the Pane owns you."

The scar-copy lifted its head, bloodless tears streaming from its black mirror-eyes. It whispered in his own broken voice:

"Let me stay. Or you'll vanish."

Ren's blade trembled in his hand. His vow-chain burned. His Thorn screamed.

And for the first time in this war—he wasn't sure which one of them was real anymore.